Patch Hastle grew up in a hurry, ditching East Texas for NYC to
make his name as a DJ and model without ever looking back. When
his parents die unexpectedly, he heads home to unload the family
farm ASAP and skedaddle. Except the will left Patch’s worst
enemy in charge: his father’s handsome best friend who made his
high school years hell.

Tucker Biggs is going nowhere. Twenty years past his rodeo days,
he’s put down roots as the caretaker of the Hastle farm. He
knows his buddy’s smartass son still hates his guts, but when
Patch shows up growed-up, looking like sin in tight denim,
Tucker turns his homecoming into a lesson about old dogs and new
kinks.

Patch and Tucker fool around, but they can’t fool themselves.
Once the farm’s sold, they mean to call it quits and head off to
separate sunsets. With the clock ticking, the city slicker and
his down-home hick get roped into each other’s life. If they’re
gonna last longer than spit on a griddle, they better figure out
what matters—fast.

In this excerpt from Chapter
One, Patch Hastle has just arrived home for a reading of
the will and discovered that his parents have named
Tucker Biggs, his mortal enemy and worst fantasy,
executor of the estate.

The lawyer frowned. “Mr.
Biggs had no idea you were en route today. I believe he
planned to meet you home.”
His home, she
meant, because Tucker lived on the farm and Patch did
not. What did she know?
Everything.
Hell, she’d written the will. She opened her mouth to
say something, but Patch laughed again.

“Tucker Biggs can’t pay his
water bill. He’s a….”
Bigot.
Fraud. Sleaze. Loser. Prick. Bully. He didn’t bother to shield his
distaste. And they
put him in charge. “Mess. Hell, he lives in a
trailer he stole from an ex-girlfriend in Lake Charles.
On our land.”

She blinked, no longer
charmed. “Unfortunately, we’re not authorized to take
any kind of action without the executor. Do you know if
he’s willing to sell?”

Shrug. His mind raced. “What
can you tell me?”

She sounded distraught. “I
assumed you knew.”

Head shake. “My parents and I
had a falling-out.”

“There’s insurance, but your
daddy might be deemed at fault because of the signals. I
can file the paperwork, if you….” She turned toward the
door. “…want.”

Boots on gravel, a tread he
knew better than he’d ever admit out loud. He hated his
heart for beating faster, his skin for prickling. A dull
roar in his ears as the door flapped open and all the
oxygen escaped.

“Patch?” A low rumbling drawl
he remembered too well.

Patch braced himself before
he looked up.

Sure enough, Tucker filled
the doorway in a chambray shirt and a straw work hat
that he took off as he stepped inside, likely because
the lawyer was a lady.

There he stood, larger than
life, with the same square sandpaper chin and twinkle in
his wink that got him a free piece of pie anywhere he
ordered iced tea. “Well, hell, son! Look at you all
growed up.” He wiped at his chiseled mouth.

Just the
same.

Patch frowned. He couldn’t
believe Tucker looked so good, even now. He had to be
midforties but his body looked— “Hey, Mr. Biggs.” He
straightened but didn’t trust himself to stand.

Tucker hesitated just inside
the threshold, letting the last of the cool air escape
before bringing the heat inside with him. He blinked,
squinted, and turned slightly as he entered, as if his
shoulders were too broad to fit through. “Tucker, huh?
Boy, it’s good to have ya home.”

It is?

He rolled the brim of his hat
and rocked on his worn boots.
Tough. “I
ain’t seen you since… man, look atcha! I wouldn’ta known
you.” The greeting seemed almost real. Tucker grinned as
if he were glad to see Patch. “Lord, I ain’t seen you in
five years.”

The calluses scraped his
smooth palm. “Seven.” He shook the rough hand, squeezing
it hard to make the point.

Tucker didn’t react.
“Whenever you took off. Right thing, you did there.”
Without letting go, he pulled Patch to his feet for a
thumping hug that pressed their bodies together. “You’re
a big un, huh?” He smelled like sawdust, machine oil,
and sunburned skin.

Patch stepped away and took
his seat again. “I’m almost twenty-three.”
And now you’re
old, mofo. Put out to pasture, only he didn’t look
so worn out.

“Smart kid.” He sat down and
squeezed Patch’s leg. “Lord, it’s good to see you.”

Baffled and overwhelmed,
Patch nodded in reply, his entire attention focused on
the firm pressure. A wet swallow.

Before today, Tucker had been
friendly to him exactly twice, both times drunk. Patch’s
sophomore year, the big cowboy had shaken his hand when
he made the football team. The next year, he’d smiled
and thumped Patch on the back at the Orange County
rodeo. Ten total seconds of humanity in twenty-two-plus
years. “Uh, same.”

Were they supposed to pretend
that they’d been buddies? His dad’s best friend had been
frank about his dislike from the time Patch was four and
spent twelve years treating him like something you
scrape off your boots.

Tucker rubbed his chin with
his ridiculously thick fingers, dropping his gaze. “Son,
I’m sorry for your folks. They
sure loved
you.” Except, on his lips the word became
shore and the
bullshit sounded plausible. His charm greased the lie.

Patch grunted acknowledgment
but kept his mouth shut. Today was not a day for truth
about how narrow and spiteful his parents had been.

Now he’d never get to make
peace, no matter how much he’d wrestled with his devils
these seven years. Tucker and the lawyer probably took
his silence for grief, not regret.
Ballad of the Small-Town Queer.

By junior year, Patch had
become an unwelcome boarder in his parents’ house,
paying his rent with chores and humiliation. He could
talk to his dad a little, but his mama was a sad ghost
who prayed for nothing and knitted booties for other
people’s grandkids.

For ten sorry seconds his
freshman year, he’d tried to make friends, play sports,
anything to keep him away from the farm.

Coach Biggs killed that hope
in the cradle.

Even before high school,
Tucker had avoided Patch.

Freshman year, Tucker
alternated between ignoring and insulting him, harassing
him in front of the team and teachers, smacking him
around to toughen him up. No one had blinked.
Friend of the family. Later, when they’d been nothing more to each
other than benchwarmer and bigot, they hadn’t exchanged
two polite words.

Ms. Landry took a seat behind
her desk, facing the two of them, mistaking the silence
for affection and proximity for a reunion.

Patch sighed and looked at
the linoleum. Long
fucking day. He looked at his watch. “Ms. Landry?”

The lawyer opened a file and
riffled through the pages. “Mr. Biggs?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry for
the hour. I got the messages. Phone works fine, I just
gotta be there to answer. We had a situation with a
well.” The word came out
sitch-ation
and Tucker capped it with that crooked smile that turned
panties into pussy willows.

She looked back, pink and
fidgety. Great.
Now she, like everyone else in this shithole county,
thought Tucker was wonderful.

In this excerpt from Chapter
Two, Patch Hastle considers going out to hook up in
Beaumont, but instead sneaks over one last time to spy
on Tucker Biggs, his second night back at the family
farm.

Wasting no time, Patch dug
jeans and a V-neck out of his bag and toed into old
sneakers from high school. He ducked outside in happy
anticipation. For once he’d show the locals how—

He stalled on the steps. Why
would he let just any old small-town queer to know him
and blow him? No. He didn’t want none of them. Blushing,
he stopped dead in the front yard.
Pathetic.

No. He wanted a cowboy, a
greaser, a jock, some rough sumbuck who’d toss him
around and make him crazy. He wanted—

“Tucker,” he whispered.
So help me.

The sky churned overhead like
a storm with no clouds, no rain.

Patch looked out toward the
trailer, hidden across the property behind a small break
and a cowshed. He thought of Tucker kneeling in front of
his zipper to love on that goofy dog and again wondered
what the hell he and the other cowboys and convicts got
up to out there when nobody was looking.
Maybe…. Surely….

A half mile away, Tucker
Biggs sat lonely in his shorts. Or not lonely, humping
some waitress. Or his own hand. Or some rodeo clown,
even. Not like he’d ever had any modesty, but living out
here alone? No chance. He probably put on a show every
night.

For a full five minutes Patch
fought the impulse to just go see for himself. He’d
never unsee it, and yet if he didn’t, he’d never have
the chance again. In a week he’d be back in New York and
he’d never see Tucker Biggs again.
Thank fuck.

Before he could second-guess
himself, Patch walked up the drive and turned onto the
dark shoulder headed the right direction, even though he
knew it was the wrong way.

Out here the county didn’t
even have lights, leaving it truly pitch dark. His eyes
adjusted as he walked the half mile to the pond, the
trailer, and Tucker.

Like I’m
thirteen.

Back then, Patch had snuck
over to spy on this trailer plenty.
Duh. Hot
cowboy next door. He remembered hanging around the
locker room for a glimpse of Coach Biggs’s perfect bare
chest. Going camping and washing in the creek as slow as
he dared. Or that one night he’d spotted his dad’s best
friend under the barn shower, the flash of his perfect
pale butt. He’d been too afraid to sneak closer. Too
petrified of getting busted, but now, here, he was grown
and it was just the two of them.

Us.

The trailer sat bright and
still. Tinny voices, from the TV, sounded like, but
nothing alive. Someone was home.

He padded along surefooted as
a fox. He crossed the ditch and ducked through the
split-rail fence like he was still a kid. He circled the
yard slowly, coming no closer to the trailer just yet.
His gaze strayed to the lit windows, ready to catch
Tucker and his local skank or maybe his sleazy buddy
doing something raunchy and embarrassing.

The windows spilled amber
light onto the patchy front yard and its clutter.
Inside, television voices rose and fell, but no overt
cock show. Duh.

Patch walked on, disappointed
and also somehow relieved. At this point, the notion of
Tucker as a closet case would’ve been even more
humiliating. Bix had gone to Kerrville. Now he
remembered and felt foolish.

He walked on, keeping to the
road’s unlit shoulder, ready to be inside. Then, just as
he passed out of sight, a phone’s ring and movement drew
his eye back to the trailer.

Tucker walked naked past both
open windows. The angle hid most of his body, but the
root of his fat slab of cock was visible under the dark
pubes that led up a trail to fan out over his chest.
Jesus, his body.
His arms, his back—even with the farmer tan he looked
like a statue. Tucker passed from sight, but Patch stood
frozen, waiting for another chance.

Television laughter echoed.
The rise and fall of Tucker’s raw, drawling bass wove
through it, wordless and seductive. Why didn’t any of
the small-town dumbasses in New York sound like that,
look like that, feel like that?

Patch’s hands squeezed into
powerless fists.

He refused to creep closer,
but he stepped sideways into a stand of live oak and
wiped sweat from his face. Not like he’d ever have the
chance again. Minutes ticked by until he started to feel
ridiculous squinting at empty windows on a double-wide.
And then….

Tucker drifted back. Smiling
at something and talking on the phone notched against
his shoulder. He paused, and for a crazy moment, stood
exposed face to knees, shadowed and splendid, in the
rectangle of the window. He rubbed at his armpit, raised
the hand to his face and frowned skeptically at the
smell. Absently, he tugged at one tiny nipple and
dropped his hand.

If possible, Tucker looked
even sexier, even stronger than he had seven years ago.
He wore that wear and tear like a prize buckle.

Patch crouched lower, wincing
at the crack of a stick under his foot. From somewhere
inside, Botchy
ruffed lazily. He saw her nosing at the window
screen. Shit.
She’d come right to him if she got out. His heart
galloped.

Tucker leaned to look out
over his yard and said something to the dog. As he
leaned closer, his chiseled bare body blocked the lamp
glow, silhouetting him, but if anything, that made it
worse. Alpha male, ready for trouble.

Patch held his breath, aware
of his pulse in his ears. His cock rose into an
impatient ridge inside his stupid pants. He’d never
wanted anyone so much in his life.

I can’t
stand him. But he knew that for a
bluff. Patch refused to move.

Light-headed, Patch swallowed
and exhaled.
Fourteen again. He knew he couldn’t be seen in the
dark, but no way was he gonna get caught spying.

Tucker cracked his neck and
nodded.

That ridiculous impulse to
stay and spy warned him how much he needed to leave this
place, like yesterday, split before he did something stupid or got himself beat.
He’d seen what he wanted. He couldn’t have it. The end.

In the trailer, Tucker turned
away, muscle playing across his back and shoulders, then
the tight swell of his haunch before he sat, vanishing
from sight.

In this excerpt from Chapter
Four, the day after their first awkward, intense sexual
encounter Patch takes a dip in the pond not expecting Tucker
to show up.

On the big rock near the center,
Patch stood again and scraped the water from his wavy hair.
He had a memory of his pa balancing him on a horse as a boy.
Steady now. The
sun felt like heaven through his closed eyes. He turned and
dove back in.

Even at its deepest, the water
only came up to his chest and the carp at the bottom weren’t
something he’d ever eat. The bottom was broken rock at one
end and cool mud at the other.

Patch had learned to jerk off
against those flat rocks, snuck beers, and smoked the only
two cigarettes of his life too. Sophomore year, he’d fooled
around on the rockier shore with teammates because it was
private and navigable in the dark. Against that tree, he’d
kissed his first girl (meh)
and blown his first boy (yeah!).

“Afternoon.”

Patch stiffened and straightened,
twisted to face the gravelly drawl with a cold twist in his
gut.

Tucker stood on the opposite
shore in Carhartt overalls and that straw work hat. His
muscular arms looked tan and greasy against his white
undershirt. “I guess we had the same idea.” He glanced at
the sky, the water. “It’s hot as a whorehouse on nickel
night.” He shifted his weight but came no closer.

A flicker of Tucker naked in the
armchair, glittering eyes gazing down at him, the taste of
his semen pinning them both in place… Patch blinked it away,
hyperconscious of his wet, bare skin and the distance
between them. He went no closer to the pebbly shore.

They eyed each other.
One Mississippi, two
Mississippi, three—

“So…. Uhh.” Tucker took his hat
off with one hand and wiped his brow and mouth with the
other. “We talking?”

Patch frowned, trapped by his
nudity and the water.

“I mean, do we talk about what we
done?” Tucker crouched at the water’s edge, his boots
sinking into the smooth mud. No one had a right to look that
good. “Last night. Or are you fixin’ to run off again?” He
said run like a
cuss word, painting Patch a coward for having some sense.

Patch started to snap back at him
out of habit, but then he thought better of it. “Naw.”

“How you today?” Tucker seemed to
be actually asking a legitimate question. “Better?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Sure.”
Exposed and motionless, he let Tucker’s gaze rest on him
across the water. Whatever had passed between them last
night had not vanished in sunlight.

He crossed his arms. “Which
part?” Tucker squinted. “Come to visit? Squirted the side of
my trailer? Eaten my load?”

“None. All.” Knowing it was a
mistake, certain he would regret it, he pushed through the
cool water toward the one person he had no business wanting.
He moved as he would’ve for a racy photo shoot, fucking the
imaginary lens with his presence, demanding a reaction.

Tucker watched him warily from
under the trees still, overalls hanging from one strap. “I
guess we are.” A crooked smile bent the edge of his mouth.
“Talking.”

The closer Patch got to the shore
the more of his torso was revealed: nipples, navel, and
gradually the darkened trail down to his pubes. His dick
thickened and shifted in the water, swirling around his
waist as he advanced. Now his body was clean but his
thoughts were everything else.

Tucker stared as if hypnotized.
He wiped his lower face, lip to chin, and swallowed. He was
sweating now. Was that a boner in his overalls?

Patch strode in slow motion,
stirring the calm pond water as if sleepwalking. He
shouldn’t want this so much but couldn’t make himself care.
Conscious of the picture he made, he crooked a sinful grin
just for effect.

“You afraid of me now?” Patch
paused one step before his erection broke the surface.
Tucker stood as if rooted to the shore. “Or you gonna come
for a swim?”

“I’m good.” Tucker swallowed and
his tongue slipped out to taste his lips. He couldn’t seem
to look at Patch’s face. “Fine. Y’know.” His hands squeezed
and released beside his pockets.

So Patch took the step that
brought his knob out of the water and his boner dripped
between them. Way too much fun watching the big cowboy
squirm. He’d come out here looking for trouble; Patch was
happy to give it to him.

On the shady shore, Tucker rocked
back on his heels and shifted his straw hat to cover the
lump under his coveralls.

Patch couldn’t look anywhere
else. Another step. The cool mud sucked at his toes in the
water dripped from his skin with each step he shouldn’t
take.

How had he gotten here? Naked on
the family farm, thigh-deep in stagnant water, walking
toward a bear trap. New York City and all its fancy bullshit
seemed like the other side of the world. Hot wind pushed
through the trees overhead; the kudzu hissed and the live
oaks whispered above them.

Tucker stood waiting and wary
now, a sexy, lazy no-account who’d only ever wanted to scare
him straight. They both knew better, but now they stood a
yard apart with disaster churning between them.

"Intensely erotic, Lickety Split
is a rough-n-tumble cowboy romance
as fierce as it is tender. Hot, hip DJ Patch Hastle
has taken a rocky road since he ran away from Texas at
sixteen, but he could never shake his yearning for Tucker
Biggs, the cocky scoundrel he was never supposed to
want...This blissful gem of a novel will
crack your heart wide open and show you,
page after searing page, that maybe, just
maybe, you can go home again."
Emily Jordan for
Salon.com

"Damon Suede writes explosively hot, hypnotically
well-written gay romance. In Lickety Split,
he once again takes an archetypal gay erotic fantasy and
uses his formidable talents to cast it with two
utterly real, unforgettable and deeply sympathetic
heroes. Simply put, Damon Suede is one of the most
talented and versatile writers of gay romance at work today,
if not the most."
Christopher Rice,
NY Times Bestselling Author of A Density of Souls

"Once again Damon Suede delivers a poignant,
thought-provoking love story. Lickety Split deals
with life-altering misperceptions, second chances, and
revisiting a dark past in hopes of forging a bright future.
And who doesn’t swoon over a sexy, gruff,
take-charge cowboy like Tucker? Do yourself
a huge favor and BUY THIS!"
Lorelei
James, NY Times Bestselling author of the
Rough Riders series

"Damon Suede's Lickety Split will leave you
longing for a dip in a cool pond, the glow of
fireflies, and forbidden nights with the lusty older cowboy
of your dreams. Equal parts gritty, elegant and
beautifully real, this emotional coming-home story
is filled with breathtaking imagery, enticingly
flawed characters and a generous helping of
earthy, edgy kink. The unlikely romance kept me
off balance in such a brilliant way that I
didn't want the book to end. This author is always
worth waiting for!"
R.G.
Alexander, author of the bestselling Finn Factor
series

"MUST-READ ROMANCE! If you thought Damon
Suede’s firefighters were hot, grab some ice before you read
his cowboy! Lickety Split
is raunchy, gritty and sweetened with sugar on top...Though
the sex is hot, the emotional connection adds another layer.
They become elemental to each
other...Damon’s typical lush language and abundant
humor make this book a must read. His way
with words beautifully blends with his storytelling skills."
Mary Grzesik​ for HEA/USA TODAY

"What if I told you Damon will deliver his most
vexing yet hottest love tangle to date, would you
buy it? Well, you should....Suede has a rare and
remarkable ability to turn a moment into a force. A
rope coils into a promise, a sweet cup of coffee brews into
a storm of emotions, and a two-step becomes a partnership.
The power of the love between these two men isboundless and unrestrained...I
thought my Kindle was going to spontaneously combust.
I know it’s the gorgeous setting sun on the cover but it
might as well be flames because this was a scorcher...
You best git on this one here right quick.
Y’all don’t want to miss this cowboy and his pup."
BookUnfunk

"I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting but this was
the best kind of surprise. It was
hot and heavy but it also had the kind of story
that you want to sink your teeth into...A May-December
romance that was raunchy and dirty and
intoxicatingly addictive, I'm already putting this
out there: it's one of my top 2017 favorites!
...goodness, these two were hot together. Like
sizzling. And super filthy. And I couldn't get
enough of them, so I couldn't believe it was over even after
265 pages. Let me reiterate that there's more to
this book than the sex...This is the kind of book
where you want them to have a happy ending because they both
deserve it. It'll SO put you on the edge. *wink*
Five-plus stars. ♥"
Dog-Eared Reviews

"A Damon Suede novel never disappoints,
and Licktey Split is a delicious treat
not to be missed. It’s a sultry, sexy, slow-burn
salted with kink and roasted with decadent indulgence
that will curl your toes and rattle your spurs."
Heidi Cullinan

"Damon Suede is an exceptional storyteller.
Whether you’re hearing him speak at a conference or having a
one on one chat with him, it’s clear he knows how to
arouse emotion in his audience. He’s well-versed in
the art of inspiring others, and his writing is no
different. Lickety Split
is afantastically well-crafted story that
resonates with the reader, evoking a
spectrum of emotions from compassion to sizzling excitement,
and everything in between...The intimate scenes between
Tucker and Patch are as scorching as the Texas heat...
Patch and Tucker move through life at different speeds, but
when they come together it’s clear that together they set
the perfect pace."
Charlie Cochet, bestselling author of the Thirds
series.

"A story that was off the charts in the HEAT FACTOR.
Characters who were immensely likable in some ways — and
ways they weren’t....WIN, WIN, WIN. This is off the
charts nuclear...the right balance of
emotion and hot-as-hell eroticism. Damon crafted
some messy, flawed, mostly unapologetic characters and took
them through the wringer to a hard-won HEA. That, for me, is
always a win. A rollicking good read —
enthusiastically recommended."
Katie for Back Porch Reader

"I always know going into a Damon Suede book that it’s going
to be packed full of emotion and it’s going
to be hot as hell. Even so, I was
shocked by the things LICKETY SPLIT
made me feel... The emotions hit me
unexpectedly. I wasn’t prepared for how they snuck
up on me at the weirdest times...LICKETY SPLIT
is sexually raw and emotionally gritty. It was a
fun and consuming ride with these two
broken men. So satisfying to see them make each other whole
in the end."
Fran for Under the Covers

"FIVE STARS! I have a lot to say about this book, but first,
I just need to get this out of my system: I loved
this book. Like, for reals. Truly, madly, deeply.I wanna marry it. It’s just so dreamy!...
This book is full of cool literary devices and I want to
read and read again until I find them all. I have it in me
to gush about this book a little more. It
doesn’t read like literature, even though I just used a
bunch of words talking about its literary qualities.
This is a romance in contrast to itself, it’s a Dylan song,
it’s dancing under the stars, it’s getting to love the
person you always wanted, and it’s… beautiful. I sound sappy
AF but I don’t care because I loved this book! I
don’t even resent the days of book hangover I got.
There are a lot of kinky cowboy romances, but there aren’t a
lot of books so beautifully in contrast and opposition to
themselves. This book balanced the two." Faye for
It's About the Book

"(FIVE STARS) Good goddamn!!!...the slow
fucken burn. And the sweet fucken kink. Just the
right amount. No cheesy ‘Daddy’ script. No formal
‘scenes.’ Just two guys who like to get down in the same
beautiful and dirty and marvelous way. No
bullshit angst or miscommunications, although that certainly
don’t mean it was easy (and yes, I’m writing in a drawl, I
can’t not!) I’m honestly kinda in awe. And
it was sooooooo fucken HOT! I’ve been know
to get bored and skim a sex scene or twelve, but despite the
edging going on for dozens of pages, I could not get
enough." Sandra
for Hearts on Fire Reviews

"Lickety Split is the
most remarkable story I have read this year...Tucker
and Patch are both very real, very complex
characters with natural flaws and many layers...
Their feelings are real, and their chemistry is over the
top... the sex scenes are masterfully written and
very sensual. The writing is truly exceptional. The
slow flow, the detailed portrayal of the forming
relationship between Tucker and Patch give an
amazing depth to the story...This is not
your everyday romance. It is raw and brutally honest with
gritty feelings and pure sexuality... If you like
reading raw, passionate stories, this is a
perfect read for you. Highly recommended."
Cinnamon for Love Bytes

"Utterly satisfying... This book
has to be read slowly, and savored. There's so much
between the lines that it's easy to miss a point or five the
author is trying to make if you're rushing through it...This
book is truly a character study. It's fascinating
to watch the interactions between Patch and Tucker, and both
of them changing before your eyes. Slowly,
carefully, Damon Suede peels back the layers of his
characters, showing his readers time and again that
he has mastered his craft, creating and exploring two
exquisite and completely oppositional characters with depth
and heart and determination. There are moments that are
utterly breathtaking, and they sneak up on you so
unexpectedly that you can't help but sit there with your
gaping maw, wondering what just happened.
Read this, savor this. It's masterfully done."
My Fiction Nook

"FIVE STARS! I was really excited
to read this book. Let me tell you, it hit all my
expectations...There are so many elements to this
story, I really don’t know where to start... Well, let me
tell you—barns and rope. I’ll let your imagination figure
out the rest. Damon Suede can knock it out of the
park. Sensual, spicy hot sex...I really liked how
the author played these characters out. It wasn’t slow; it
wasn’t fast and furious; it was real time...This is
without a doubt a true love story. The
writing, the emotions, the storyline, I loved it all.
Heartwarming moments and regretful realizations make this
story memorable. The choices we have, the opportunities
we’re given, and the decisions we make are all our own. And
the sex, don’t forget about the sex!! I encourage
everyone to read this one."
Lynn for The Novel Approach

"Once I read the description for 'Lickety Split', I was all
in and ready to have the time of my life. I was not
disappointed...I was surprised and pleased at the
amount of character study the author wrote. This is
no simple story. Far from it. Patch and Tucker are
both very complex men with insecurities, vulnerabilities,
strengths, and weaknesses, and both still trying to find
their path in the world, albeit in different ways... Lickety Split was way more
than I expected it to be. It moved me and
made me really think about life, and love.
A truly beautiful story about going home and
finding what you never knew you'd lost."
Christy Duke for Rainbow Book Reviews

"I was introduced to Damon Suede’s unique voice
in Hot Head, his bestselling novel featuring
firefighters in NYC shortly after the 9/11 attack...
Westerns have never been a favorite genre but this
was Damon’s version and I couldn’t resist. This
May/December romance is set in a nothing town in the middle
of nowhere Texas. The main characters aren’t very likable on
their own, but as a unit they work for me.
Shockingly honest on so many levels—and I’m not
talking about the sex which is kinky and deliciously
erotic—Lickety Split is an
emotional bull ride. The pain of being
misunderstood is heartfelt, the realization
that things were never as they seemed, and the
glimmer of hope for a happy ending left me holding my breath
throughout the second half of the book.
This is storytelling at its finest. Highly recommended!"
Mickie Ashling

"Lickety Splitby Damon Suede is, at its simplest, a feel good
revelation… Patch and Tucker, in Suede’s capable
hands suffer realistic, well-crafted stumbles,
moments of bone-crushing self-doubt, difficult realizations
born of sincere and heart-wrenching reflection...
We see growth and maturity, regret and pure joy, resignation
and acceptance... Hear this world! Damon Suede has
eclipsed Hot Head. With the right amount of
angst and indecision, this is a tale of two men who
not only find each other, but more importantly, themselves.
You will cheer and curse, grin and marvel
at Damon’s clever turn of phrase. But more, you will think
about all you should have done in your life...
Quick-quick. Slow, Slow."
Brita Addams

"A hot, lusty, often cantankerous book that I loved...Suede
does an amazing job creating friction
between Patch and Tucker... The hate/love cycles between
them are peppered with bouts of explosive hate, intense
sexual release, truly tender moments and times of confusion.
It’s all mixed into a package that’s hard to put
down. I’ve never read a book that uses sex
like Suede does here... In Lickety Split, though,
the sex scenes are epic in nature and
provide a lot of insight into Patch and Tucker. They learn a
lot about each other through the sex and the reader learns
even more. It’s sex that goes far beyond just being
hot. This was a hot page-turner
and I’ll definitely pluck Suede’s other books off our shelf
in the near future."
Jeff & Will’s Big Gay Fiction Podcast